A strange purple light had been cast across the small, shallow lake, and the figures atop it were stretched and distorted into colors that no ordinary individual would normally call natural. But these were not ordinary individuals, and the purple light magnified their characteristics in entirely believable ways. It was not clear yet what sort of image was being painted here, but it’s possible it will come into focus by the end of the scene. For indeed 94 is the closest we’ve come yet to the conclusion of this project and maybe it’s about time things wrapped up, or turned the last corner down the lane to the end.

What was the end? Hem reflected solemnly as he peered into the confusing purple light that appeared to have no source. It was just this strange, unearthly glow that was filled with too many adjectives. That was fine. It was all fine. The purple was soothing.

What had last happened? He couldn’t remember, for the months had drifted lazily past in a spiraling collage of needless blurs and hazy impressions. He had a feeling that his memory was beginning to fail and weaken. It was impossible to know because he couldn’t remember, but he could have sworn that he had been sharper before.

Hem looked out at the lake again, interpreting everything through the misty violet light. Breema was out there somewhere, likely just behind the mist, catching some fish for dinner tonight. Hem was back tidying their resting place up. He glanced at the blocky box they had been hauling through the South O’ Things. It had been so long that he was beginning to lose his grasp of the urgency of their mission, or what had seemed like urgency at the beginning. He would have to ask Breema about this again, but he sensed that she was also losing her focus.